


Yarrow and Reed

by vrisadefer



Category: Slavic Mythology & Folklore
Genre: F/F, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16167782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vrisadefer/pseuds/vrisadefer
Summary: And she sat by the forest pond, and wept - and the pond wept with her.Perhaps it is a fairy tale, perhaps a sweet memory, or perhaps it did not happen at all, or perhaps it is yet to happen - but a girl looked into a pond and instead of her own reflection saw a pair of cunning eyes, and lips as sweet as honey.





	1. Chapter 1

The past year was harsh, and the fields were empty, and the trees yielded no fruit. It was too cold too soon, and then too dry for too long, and no sacrifices and no prayers could evoke enough mercy in gods to open the skies. The villagers tried, they tried their best, but no offering seemed pleasing enough, no hymn loud enough, and the cries of hunger and hopelessness did not reach the divine ears. Or perhaps they did but were ignored, or forgotten too soon - the reason for this no man knew, even the wisest. 

 

It was so dry that rivers ran slow and shallow, waterfalls turned into quiet tapping of single drops on rocky walls, and the stalks and grasses around the ponds turned bitter brown. Everyday people wandered farther from the village to find water and dig wells. It was usually the men who went, shovels ready, into the scorching sun, but they were always followed by a little girl - an orphan, with dirty hands and messy hair, too stubborn to be driven off. 

But soon the men grew fond of the little girl and took pity on her: brought her bits of food they could spare from their households, wooden horses and straw dolls their children did not play with anymore. Quickly it turned out that this creature small was the best guide, as she seemed to be able to smell the waters running deep in the earth - she would point her little finger and exclaim: “there, o there, you ought dig deep and before the sun sets, we'll have water!”

And every time her words proven true. Perhaps someone would think it magic, or witchcraft, or a trick, but desperate men were overjoyed that everyday they could come home with buckets of water. Not enough to water the crops, but enough for their children to drink and bathe, and that was most important.

And the girl always asked for only one thing: a bucket of water. They would give it to her, of course, and she would run off with it - her tiny arms tired with the weight - and when she came back to march with them to the village, the bucket was always empty.

\- Did you drink it all, child? - they would ask. - Where did the water go?

\- I drank it, I drank it, I was very thirsty. - she would reply every time, giggling. - Like a dragon from the stories, I could drink and drink and drink, and empty rivers before my belly fills!

 

And they would pay no attention to it.

 

The girl, of course, did not drink the water, but carried it deep into the forest, beyond the oaks and beyond the lindens, through stinging nettles and sharp blackberry bushes. And there, hidden from sight, was a dying pond - without the blessing of rain its waters were murky and shallow, and the little girl could see the fish struggle and suffer. 

And she took pity on them, and every day she went there to add a bucket of water into the pond, and she never drank more than just enough to go by.

First weeks did not change much - the water still dark and warm - but her heart was full of hope and stubborn as no other. And as more days passed, the pond seemed to wake up - the waters more lively, the grasses greener, and even tiny fish would sometimes jump out of the water and glimmer in the rays of sun for a blink of an eye.

\- No one else I have in this world but you. - the girl would say to the pond. - No one else has any need for me but you.

Before the colder months came, when the golden cloak fell on the trees and the wind sent spider webs flying through the air, the little girl noticed frogs around the pond, and nearly cried with joy.

\- My ma used to say that if I kiss a frog, it just might turn into a prince. - she said to herself and tried her best not to cry at the memory of her poor, dear mum. - But I don't want a prince, I think.

 

And she would go back to the village, and go to bed proud and happy. And gods saw how good the little girl was and how committed, how stubborn and hardworking, how focused on keeping at least that one pond alive. Even though the fates burdened her with so much grief so young, she remained hopeful.

And so the gods opened the skies and allowed the first rain to fall, and soothe the earth and the people; and they whispered to the trees so they would bloom again and yield fruit; and they touched the fields so that the wheat would rise from them again. And they blessed the little girl so no harm would ever come to her again - sweet Mother Mokosh blessed her with patience and love, the mighty Perun with strength and endurance, fair Jarilo with a joyful spirit and a drive to justice, and Veles, deep from the forest, gave her cunning, and swift skilled hands. 

 

Or perhaps all that she learned and earned herself as years went by, but that no man knows, even the wisest. 


	2. Old lady's hut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl never really had a name, as no one could remember what her mother called her. She has always been girl, or child, or other names when people were cruel. 
> 
> But in the face of cruelty her heart remained pure, and full of love for others, especially the downtrodden.

****

As time have passed, the girl grew and took care of herself, and with hard work she never had to suffer hunger again. She lived in a hut with an old lady - a sickly woman with weak mind and weak memory whom no one in this world wanted anymore. It was not an easy task, to feed her and bathe her, take care of her when she had a fever or when her bones hurt too much to move at all. But the girl liked to be needed, and she had a good heart for everyone, especially the downtrodden. 

And some days the old lady would not recognise her at all, and some days she would think it is her daughter standing before her.

\- Maria, what a beautiful braid you have. - she'd say - I remember braiding your fair hair when you were just a little child, my Maria.

And the girl would nod, and smile, and let the old lady believe for a second that she's seeing her long dead daughter. Her eyes would lit up behind the veil of near-blindess, and her mind would ease.

The girl never really had a name, as no one could remember what her mother called her. She has always been girl, or child, or other names when people were cruel, so she welcomed being called Maria with a joyful heart. 

But one day the old lady woke up just before the sun has risen, and called for the girl.

\- Go, girl, out into the field, and bring me yarrow.

\- What do you need the yarrow for?

\- Make me a pillow of yarrow so I might sleep better, the sleep is coming and my neck hurts.

\- But a pillow of yarrow might make your skin itch, grandmother, let me bring feathers and I will make a pillow.

\- It will not itch, child, as I will not wake up. - the old lady said. - Yarrow is a magical herb, it will make my mind clear as I walk to meet my family.

The girl had to try really hard not to break down in tears, as she knew she had a lot of work to do.

\- I will wait until you have enough for a pillow, girl, and only then will I fall asleep. But please, hurry.

 

So the girl wiped the tears from her face and set off to the field. She worked for hours picking yarrow, and her hands were green and itchy, but she did not stop.

\- What are you doing, you silly creature? - laughed a man passing her in the field. - What do you need the yarrow for?

And the girl said nothing but focused on her task.

\- Have you also lost your mind? - shouted the man again. - Or are you a witch?

\- Go home to your wife. - she said. - As she is now giving birth to your child.

\- Nonsense, girl, the baby will not be born before the next full moon.

\- Go, I tell you, leave me to my yarrow. Your wife is in pain and the baby will not cry.

The man left quickly, and even though he did not believe the girl, there was unease in his heart and fear in his soul .

And as she was picking the herb she wondered why some people felt the need to be cruel, as if the fates were not cruel enough in this world.

\- Some think you weed - she said to the yarrow - a useless thing. But you can heal, and you can bring ease, and for that you are so useful.

As she went back, carrying plenty of yarrow in her arms, someone laughed again:

\- You, yarrow witch, where are you going?

And she thought to herself that it is fitting, and if she is not Maria, and if she has no one to name her, she will name herself. And her name will be Yarrow. 

 

She went back to the hut, tired but proud. The old lady’s breath was uneven, and she could not speak anymore.

\- Here. - the girl said, and laid a pillow of yarrow underneath her gray head. - Now you can think clearly, grandmother, and you can fall asleep knowing that you'll see your precious Maria when you wake up.

The old lady squeezed her hand with the last of her strength, and a great tear rolled down her wrinkled face.

\- I see my Maria, and I see my sons, and I see my husband.

\- Tell them I will pray for them, too, as I will pray for you, grandmother.

\- I even see my cat that I played with as a little girl, oh what a joy, what a joy! - the lady sighed, and with a smile she let out her last breath.

And the girl washed her for the last time, and dressed her in a dress, and prayed for her, and after they buried her, she left a wreath of yarrow on her grave.

 

She did not weep when they lowered her body into the grave, and she did not weep as good people told her of their sadness and how they would pray for her, and she did not weep when everyone has left the cemetery and when the sun started to set.

As she was going back to the hut, now rightfully hers, she overheard two village women talk in the orchard. They did not see or hear her, as Yarrow moved like a shadow more than a human.

\- Poor, poor girl. - one woman said. - Orphaned so young, and now alone again, not needed by a soul in this world.

\- And gods have blessed her with such virtues, but what of it, if Morana herself cursed her so.

\- She is cursed to be less than a woman, her face with no girly charm and her hips too narrow to have children. And I have never even seen her talk to a boy, she will spend all her days alone.

\- With the old hag gone now, at least she has a roof over her head of her own.

 

And Yarrow bit her lip hard enough to draw blood so she would not cry out loud, or worse, curse the cruel women for their words. But instead she ran like the wind to the forest, deep beyond the oaks and the lindens, through the stinging nettles and sharp blackberry bushes, and there she sat by her pond, and wept.

\- I have no one else in this world now. - she said quietly, through silver tears. - As I've had only you all those years ago, I have only you again.

And the sun was setting, and the wind was playing in the reeds. And then, as she wept, the pond wept with her.

She leaned over the water, scared but curious.

\- Are you weeping with me? - she whispered. 

And then, instead of her own face reflected in the water, she saw two cunning golden eyes.


	3. Marsh marigolds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in the water, instead of her own reflection, she saw two cunning golden eyes.

Yarrow froze, eerie shivers trickling down her spine. The eyes blinked, and disappeared.

\- In the name of all old gods, _what was that_. - a gasp escaped her mouth. The tears stopped flowing but her cheeks were still wet.

And then there were waves on the cold water, and it moved and circled and danced around, and a being emerged from the depth.

Head first: hair green and swirly and wild like algae, the kind that grabs your legs when you swim and pulls you down, and eyes yellow like the marsh marigolds which bloom upon the mud.

Then shoulders, thin and sparkling with droplets, and covered by the long algae hair, and the skin green and gray like the bottom of the pond.

Poor girl did not manage to move, mesmerised and frozen still, leaning over the water. And the being looked at her, and blinked again, and tilted the green head.

\- I wept with you as your sadness was great enough to reach my heart deep in the pond. - the being said, with a voice like a song of rain and whisper of spring winds. - Why do you ache so? 

And Yarrow shook her head, and bit her lip. Her heart was covered with fear, but underneath there was nothing else than great curiosity, and it burned and twisted, demanding answers. But suddenly she could not speak, not even one word. 

And the marsh marigold eyes blinked again, and the algae green head shook in mimicry.

\- You were crying but now you are funny. - the being said. - I know you can speak so why are you silent? Why do you shake your head?

\- I am… Surprised. - replied Yarrow, with a voice husky and rough, and she did not know whether it was crying or the being that caused it.

\- Surprised? - the eyes blinked again.

\- I have never seen anything like you. - Yarrow said.

\- But you have seen me, silly girl! I remember you, in the sun, hair like straw from the field and hands dirty like the crow's claws!

\- I have never seen you. - Yarrow said, her cheeks burning and rose-red from shame.

\- Ah. I must have been a fish then, in the year of that terrible drought! No wonder you do not recognise me! - and the being smiled, green lips and a row of needle-sharp teeth. - What is the matter, why are you so red?

\- My hair like straw and dirty hands. - Yarrow said, a lump in her throat. - While you are, you are… I don't know what you are, but you look like you came from a dream.

\- A dream? - the being asked and giggled, a golden sound bouncing off the pond waters. - And you are red in shame after the words I uttered! Do not feel shame, your hair is like the last days of summer and it smells of sweet smoke like bonfires wildlings dance around at the solstice! And your hands, these dear hands, they have saved my life that year! - the being said and emerged from the water even more so, and clasped Yarrow's hands in the green embrace.

The skin was soft, but cold and wet, and Yarrow felt another shiver.

\- Now I remember, the dying pond, the water warm and murky, and you, with the bucket here, day after day, in the scorching sun! - the being said and squeezed her hands even tighter. - Thank you, oh thank you!

\- You're… w-welcome. - stuttered Yarrow.

And then silence fell upon them, and only birds were singing somewhere far away, and the golden eyes blinked again and quickly the hands let go of her, and the being submerged deeper in the water, so only the eyes and hair were visible again.

\- Why did you hide in the waters again? - asked the girl.

And the waters moved, and danced, and only bubbles appeared of the surface.

\- You cannot speak underwater, I cannot hear you. - said Yarrow, and felt laughter rise in her chest. - You are as silly as me!

\- Perhaps I am! - the being said, to the shoulders out of the water again. And the sun has already set, and in the evening light the green skin shimmered even more.

\- What is your name?

\- I have no name. - the being said - Or at least I don't remember having one. My sisters would call me something, but now they are all gone and I cannot recall their voices.

\- I also had no name. - the girl said, sitting back. - But I have given myself a name of my own.

-What is it?

\- Yarrow. - she replied and again felt her cheeks burn. It was a weed, an itchy one, and it reminded people of illnesses and troubles.

\- Oh, sweet yarrow, I remember when it grew here! I would reach out from my water bed and touch it, it felt nice beneath my fingers. - the being said, and grinned again.  - That is a wonderful name. You should give me one, too.

\- You, a name? I don't know. - Yarrow said. - I just-

 

And suddenly a terrifying sound cut through the air: a wolf's distant howl.

\- The birds have gone to sleep and the beasts have woken up! - said the being. - You better hurry home. Think of me- of my name, when you the go sleep and meet me here tomorrow.

Yarrow stood up and shook off the grass from her knees.

\- I will! - she said, a new strange hope in her heart and joy in her voice.

\- Do you promise, Yarrow?

\- I do! - she said, and before she could add anything else, the green wonder was gone in the depths of the pond again.


End file.
